


Drunk Dialled

by SeeThemFlying



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Best Friends, Brienne has poor self esteem, Declarations Of Love, Drunken Jaime, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Jaime Lannister Has Issues, Very Confused Brienne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeeThemFlying/pseuds/SeeThemFlying
Summary: Brienne had just started to doze off when her phone rang.Buzz. Buzz.Letting out an indignant huff, she rolled over to see who it was. The moment she made out the letters of her best friend's name, she switched her bedside light on, her heart leaping in her chest.Jaime.After years of being best friends, Brienne gets a late night phone call from Jaime that could change everything forever...
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 132
Kudos: 321





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is a slight reworking of a series of prompts that I wrote for my "A Thousand and One" series. If you read that, you will know the gist but I have changed it up a bit. I hope you enjoy!

Brienne had just started to doze off when her phone rang. 

_Buzz. Buzz._

Letting out an indignant huff, she rolled over to see who it was. The moment she made out the letters of her best friend's name, she switched her bedside light on, her heart leaping in her chest.

_Jaime._

Unplugging her phone from the charger, Brienne sat up and straightened her scruffy old band t-shirt that she used in lieu of pyjamas. It wasn't as if Jaime would be able to see her when she answered his call, but she wanted to look presentable for him anyway. She knew _not ugly_ was a distant dream, but perhaps the visual image of her would not make him feel ill. And, even if that wasn't the case and it would make her feel less inadequate in the face of his wonderfulness.

Steeling herself, Brienne took a deep breath before pressing the _Accept Call_ button, needing to steel herself before hearing his voice.

"Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. It was a total failure, because she was always excited to talk to him.

"Hey wench," Jaime slurred, so warmly that she could almost hear him smiling. "How are yooooooou?"

She chuckled at his ridiculousness. "Fine, but you sound smashed."

At that statement, Jaime started giggling like a child, and his laughter made Brienne's aching heart lift. Him and her were like magic. Jaime could make her smile in a way no one else could; with a grin, an arm around her shoulders, even the smell of him. Brienne supposed that this was what being in love did for you.

It made you weak.

"I am a _little_ smashed," Jaime conceded, before he started guffawing again.

Even though a minute ago she had been on the precipice of sleep, at the sound of his voice, Brienne was wide awake, prepared to stay up all night talking. Even if he was planning on speaking nothing but rubbish, she was ready to listen. "Then why are you calling me?" she asked, laughter of her own buried under her words. "Shouldn't you be getting even more smashed with Tyrion and the boys? It's Tyrion's stag do; surely you owe them shots."

"Oh my god," gasped Jaime in faux shock, with such conviction that Brienne though he should win an Iron Throne award.

"What?" asked Brienne, trying and failing not to laugh down the phone in anticipation of what he was going to say. Jaime always held her in the palm of his hand.

"Did Brienne Tarth, the noble _Brienne Tarth_ just advise me to drink shots?"

An ugly chuckle erupted from her mouth, which she was only able to suppress by thinking how much Jaime would not want her braying noisily in his ear.

_Too much._

"I might not be the world expert on stag parties, but I do think you are _meant_ to be drinking."

"You are so right, wench," slurred Jaime, his voice sounding especially warm and tender on his nickname for her. "Why are you so smart?"

Not good at taking compliments (especially from Jaime Lannister of all people) Brienne shook her head and tried a self-deprecating joke. "I'm not smart. It's just you are at a distance from me, so you've forgotten how stupid I normally am."

She expected him to agree; when they had first met, he had called her a stupid, ugly woman, after all. However, Jaime did not seem to hold onto that belief, as he let out a disgusted scoff at that statement. "You're not stupid. You are smart, and kind, and sweet, and patient, and generous, and beautiful, and you make me so happy that I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you."

If she wasn't Brienne Tarth and he Jaime Lannister, she might have found that assertion romantic. However, Brienne was wise enough to know that it was only the tequila shots talking and not _him_ , so she would not even let herself hope.

Her stepmother Roelle had told her every day throughout her teens not to trust easy compliments, but the truth in the mirror.

The _ugly_ truth.

Therefore, she laughed off Jaime's meaningless, sentimental words. "Now I know you really _are_ drunk."

"I like being drunk," Jaime said as a strange countermove.

Brienne wrinkled her brow. "Why?"

He paused for a moment, making Brienne wonder if he was weighing up his words carefully. "Because it makes me brave enough to say things that I wouldn't normally say."

"Like what?" she asked, intrigued.

If Brienne thought Jaime was going to tell her some long kept childhood secret, or finally admit that it _was_ him who had accidentally dented the front of her Ford Mondeo when he was parking his flashy sports car, she was in for a surprise, as he went for something much more tender.

"I love you, wench."

"I love you too, Jaime," she said quickly in response, trying to remind herself that having his affection as a friend was more than enough, better than she could have ever hoped for. Seeing shadows of something else, something she longed for, would only hurt more in the long run. "You are my best friend."

At the other end of the line, Jaime let out an exasperated huff. "No, you are not getting it... I'm trying to say that I _love_ you, because I really do love you... you're just really lovable with your eyes and your stubbornness and your thighs... Do you have freckles on your thighs? I love you like... not as a friend, but as a... I don't know... like, when I see you... my heart has a boner. I love you that much."

Confused at what Jaime was apparently saying, Brienne let out a hesitant giggle. "You and your metaphors, Jaime. That might be the worst one yet."

However, Jaime did not seem to care, but continued to plough on in whatever ridiculous way he was trying to explain to her the importance of their friendship. "Wench, I love you loads and sometimes I think you don't see how much I adore you..."

"I do, Jaime, I do," she admitted honestly. In all the years she had been alive, Brienne had never had a friend who cared like Jaime. Yes, he could be arrogant at times and liked to tease her, but he also had a way of seeing right through to the centre of her and disarming her with an insightful question. And then there was the time he had taken a knife to the hand for her. It was _obvious_ he cared about her; it was written over his every action. Therefore, it was only natural that Brienne loved him and wanted more than what they currently had. Yet, at the same time, she wouldn't lose him for the world, so refused to pollute their friendship with her wasted feelings. It was pointless wanting what she could never have. Consequently, Brienne just kept quiet and offered her best friend her reassurance, just as he needed. "I know. I promise."

"Good," Jaime replied ardently, letting out a great sigh as if a heavy weight had just been lifted off his shoulders, "because we'll have to talk about this, wench. Properly. I want us to both to understand everything clearly, because we need to sort everything out before we... I want all of you... forever... you and me... every day."

"I'm sorry Jaime, I dropped my phone. Can you say that again?"

However, just at that moment there was a loud shout on the other end of the line. Brienne could instantly tell it was Bronn by the obnoxious tone of his voice. It was unmistakable.

"JAIME! ARE YOU TALKING TO BRIENNE?"

"Yeah," replied Jaime quietly, as if to muffle the truth from Brienne herself. She knew Jaime well enough to sense his embarrassment. She wasn't surprised; Brienne Tarth wasn't cool in any way, shape, or form, so she found it easy to believe Jaime was ashamed of their friendship. It was only right.

"Oh for fuck's sake," came Bronn's voice, slurring and irritated. "Stop talking to your girlfriend and do some more SHOTS!"

If Brienne were not so aware of the world and the small place she could hope to hold in Jaime's life, she would have been hurt by how quickly he replied. "She's _not_ my girlfriend."

"GET ON WITH IT THEN!" shouted Bronn, the audio distorting at how loudly he was speaking. "We all know that you want to fuck--"

Then, quite abruptly, the call cut off and Brienne was left listening to the dialling tone.

"Hello? Hello? Jaime?"

Getting nothing, Brienne went searching for the end of her charger so she could plug her phone back in. Although Jaime had been quite sweet in how gushing he had been about their friendship, Brienne did not really want him to phone back. Late night calls were for people who loved each other, after all; for men who got _real_ boners for the women they drunk dialled, not just a boner of the heart. Therefore, Brienne felt no shame in dropping Jaime a text.

 _Brienne:_ I'm going to bed. We'll chat tomorrow x

Once the phone was plugged back in, Brienne turned her light off and went to sleep, trying not to dream of her best friend's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think through a comment or kudos :)


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a late night visitor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming back! I hope you enjoy :)

All things considered, Brienne was having a very pleasant night sleep until she was awoken by someone loudly knocking on the front door.

She froze. When she was younger, Brienne had had rather a horrible experience with mean boys on a school trip who had barged into her room late at night after she had been talked into letting them in. There had been wandering hands, bruises on her arms, and nightmares that had lasted for weeks. Consequently, at the sound, Brienne felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

 _Breathe,_ she instructed herself silently. _I am in my own flat, and I will not allowed myself to be mocked, derided, or hurt by a visitor in the middle of the night. So I will just ignore it and go back to sleep._

A few seconds passed before Brienne realised that was not going to happen.

"Brienne? BRIEEENNNEE???"

There was no mistaking that voice; it was Jaime. Sitting up, Brienne totally forgot the promise she had made to herself two seconds earlier, as her heart was hammering wildly in her chest.

 _What the hell is he doing here?_ she wondered.

Getting out of bed, Brienne pulled her old band t-shirt down until it covered half of her thighs. If Jaime was really going to come into her flat in the middle of the night, he didn't need to be traumatised by the sight of her freckly tree trunk legs. In spite of her fear of him seeing her bare skin, Brienne did not bother putting on any trousers; Jaime was outside, and he might need her help. There was no time to waste!

Her suspicions as to the identity of her mysterious knocker were confirmed when she opened the front door and discovered Jaime Lannister was a mess; a beautiful mess, but a mess, nevertheless. His brilliant green eyes were slightly unfocussed, his cheeks flushed, and he seemed to be having a problem standing up. As she was a weak, _weak_ woman, Brienne's heart soared at the sight of her drunken, out-of-control beloved.

"Hello wench!" said Jaime stepping forward, his every feature lighting up the second he laid eyes on her. "I've missed you."

Even though he was being sweet, Brienne could not help but roll her eyes. "I saw you less than six hours ago, and we spoke on the phone less than two."

Stepping forward, close enough that it was almost indecent, Jaime mumbled, "I think I'd miss you even if we'd never met."

There was something in those words - bruising, close, warm - that made Brienne step away from him. "You are drunk, Jaime," she retorted, going for observation and practicality in the face of his misplaced romanticism. "How are you planning on getting home?"

Jaime's eyes widened. Brienne expected him to say that the question hadn't occurred to him, but then he surprised her. "I wanted to see you," he slurred, slipping past her into Brienne's flat the second she gave him the space to. "We have to talk."

"About what?" asked Brienne, closing the door behind him then following him into her lounge. While Jaime stood in the middle of the room - always the centre of the universe - Brienne hovered over by the sofa, nervously pulling at the hem of her t-shirt. She was suddenly quite conscious of how short it was and didn't want to traumatise him. Yet, if Brienne was anticipating Jaime to say something flippant or something about her shirt, she was in for a disappointment, because instead he went for something totally shocking.

"Love."

Brienne nearly choked on air. "Love? Why love?"

"Do you know what it is?" he asked, slurring and gentle, just as he had been on the phone.

Confused and not understanding what he was getting at, Brienne decided to speak from experience. "Of course. I've fallen in love before," she admitted, not quite meeting Jaime's eyes.

 _I've fallen in love with you,_ she thought, when his searching gaze made her heart skip a beat. Even though loving him was the best of her, Brienne tried to keep her face impassive as it was also the most painful. That was why her feelings had to remain a secret.

She expected Jaime to offer her some soothing platitude to that confession, but instead he just rolled his eyes at her. "Renly doesn't count. That wasn't love. That was just..."

"What?"

Jaime's drink-addled brain thought about it for a moment. "You just liked him because he wasn't available."

"I know you are drunk, but that really doesn't make sense," said Brienne imperiously, even as she blushed furiously because she knew it was true. Gay and out of her league, Renly had been a safe recipient of Brienne's adoration, as his constant rejection of her was not personal. Jaime and his cod-psychology on the other hand was intensely hand-to-hand. He could never love her because of her hideous face; it was cruel, but true.

"It _does_ make sense!" Jaime slurred, stepping forward so quickly it was almost a lunge. "Because it means you don't have to make any hard choices. You wanted him and it was impossible... so you can just love on the downlow. Safe and quiet. Like Flo Rida. Someone who loved you... you would have no idea what to do."

Brienne wanted to hit back at him, to tell him no one would ever love her so she would never even have to deal with that situation, but then she realised Jaime had compared her to Flo Rida, and she had never heard something so baffling in all her life. "Flo Rida? Why am I like Flo Rida?"

"Wasn't he the one who sang the song about loving someone low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low?"

"I don't think that is what that song was about but... hey, why are you kneeling down?"

And before she could stop him, Jaime dropped to his knees in time with his chanted _low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low,_ his breath hot on her skin. As he was now at eye-level with the hem of her t-shirt, Brienne wanted to retreat from him, but found herself trapped by the sofa behind her. Yet, in spite of her obvious embarrassment and her nervousness, Jaime did not make her feel worse but started giggling; that sweet, beautiful sound that always hit her straight at the centre of her chest.

"What?" she asked, a heat blooming in her cheeks at the way his eyes rolled over her legs. " _What?_ "

"Freckles," he slurred, his eyes fixed on the small constellations just revealed by her band t-shirt. "You _do_ have freckles on your thighs."

Then before she could stop him, Jaime reached out and cupped the back of her knee with one hand, his fingers feather-light. It sent a thrill of want up her spine. His lips were so close to her legs, and if he just leant forward, he could...

"What are you doing, Jaime?" Brienne asked, trying to move away from him only to discover she was caged in by both the sofa behind her and the warmth of his touch. "Why are you even here? You were at Tyrion's stag party, you drunk called me to tell me what a good friend I am, and now you are here babbling about Flo Rida and my freckles. What is going on?"

When Jaime looked up at her, Brienne's breath caught in her throat, as his eyes contained the sun, the stars, and the entire cosmos. He was so damn beautiful that, for a moment, she could pretend she was too. "What do you want?" he asked, taking his hand from her soft skin and placing it at the centre of his chest, just where she imagined his heart was. "You want all the stars in the sky? Send me up to space and I'll catch every single one."

Lost at what the hell this conversation was even about, Brienne tried to think of something pithy to say, but repeatedly came up short. What was Jaime trying to tell her? That he wanted to give her the sky? And why was he gazing at her so softly?

"Jaime, what are you talking about?"

"Wench, I..."

"Yes?"

"The thing you've got to understand is..."

"What?"

For a few seconds, Jaime looked up at her, so beautiful it made Brienne's heart hurt.

"Brienne, I'm trying to tell you that I..."

And then, without giving her any warning, he vomited all over his shirt.

"Oh god," moaned Jaime, his cheeks going red as he gazed down at himself in dawning horror. "I've ruined everything!"

Hating how his face screwed up in a moment of self-hatred, Brienne put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No you haven't. Don't be ridiculous. It is just a little bit of sick, let's get you cleaned up and the you can have a glass of water. You've drunk a lot tonight, so I don’t trust you to get yourself home. You can stay on my sofa."

Clearly far too embarrassed to make a stupid comeback, Jaime got to his feet in silence. Not quite meeting Brienne's gaze, he then started to take his shirt off with shaky hands. Although it wasn't exactly the most romantic moment ever, Brienne could not help but feel a bit hot at the knowledge that his strong, warm chest was so near. In an attempt to distract herself from the heated realness of him, Brienne decided to focus on how she could help him. "I am just going to get you a glass of water. Once you have taken your shirt off, put it in the washing machine in the utility room. There's also a spare toothbrush in the bathroom if you want to brush your teeth. I will be back in a minute."

Dashing off as quickly as she could, Brienne abandoned Jaime in order to go to the kitchen, where she could have a few seconds to herself.

 _Breathe,_ she told herself repeatedly as she filled Jaime's glass of water for him. _He's just drunk... and may have lost his mind. There is nothing going on. He's just Jaime. Just Jaime. Your friend. And you know how to deal with him._

Although it only took a second to fill up Jaime's glass with water, Brienne stayed hidden in the kitchen for a few minutes to give him time to get ready and steady herself. Jaime was drunk, whereas she did not have such an excuse if she ended up embarrassing herself because he was too close.

 _Here we go,_ Brienne thought, steeling herself. _You've got to face him sometime._

When she returned to the living room, she found Jaime standing there looking like some lost baby fawn; albeit a quite sexy baby fawn as he was wearing only his boxers. The second Brienne saw him, Jaime smiled at her in such a way that there were crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"Wench..."

"Jaime!" Brienne squawked, her face catching fire at the deliciously indecent sight in front of her. "Why have you taken your jeans off?"

Luckily, Jaime then decided to match her blush for blush. "There was sick on them too, and I just thought..."

"What?"

To Brienne's surprise, when she looked into his eyes, she saw fear and trepidation. It only lasted a second, however, before Jaime replaced it with his unshakeable bravado. "I'm cold, wench."

"Not my fault," Brienne replied, a smile curling at the corner of her mouth. "You are the one who took your clothes off in my lounge."

For a split second, Jaime seemed to consider that statement an accurate summation of events, as he turned it over and over in his drunken, befuddled mind, in order to try and find some witty retort that would help him get around her implacable obstinacy. That he was lost for words momentarily allowed Brienne think she had won whatever weird battle this was, but Jaime quickly proved her wrong with what he eventually came up with.

"Take me to bed."

"What?" Brienne spluttered, her whole stomach lurching.

"You heard me," he said breathily, his voice softer than a kiss. "I am cold. You have freckles on your thighs. I think we could keep each other warm."

Totally stunned, it took Brienne a few moments to answer him. "You're mad."

"No I'm not."

"You're _drunk._ "

"Yeah, I am... but I still have a point."

Looking into Jaime's eyes, Brienne suddenly realised she really, really hated alcohol. In one fell swoop it had washed away all that was good about her friendship with Jaime and replaced it with whatever _this_ was; out of the blue comments, the moon, Flo Rida, and freckles. It was strangely raw, unveiled, and Brienne did not like it.

And, if she was honest with herself, it scared her slightly.

"You are _not_ coming to bed with me," Brienne said firmly, knowing it would be far too painful when he woke up in the morning and inevitably left her alone with awkward apologies and a pledge to never mention it again, "but I can get you a blanket and you can sleep in here... and I will stay with you until you nod off. How does that sound?"

For a moment, Jaime looked disappointed, but then he gave her one of his easy smiles. "Okay, wench. Deal."

Brienne set about fixing it up without another word. Getting the woollen blanket from the armchair, she encouraged Jaime to go and lay on the sofa. As it was a three seater, Brienne thought there was plenty of room for him to curl up at one end while she perched on the other. Jaime clearly had other ideas though. Once Brienne had given him the blanket and sat down, he picked up a pillow and placed it on her lap. Only then did he get himself warm under the cover, placing his golden head on the cushion and nuzzling against her like some golden, spoilt house-cat.

"Stroke my hair, wench."

That desire was delivered like an order, so Brienne automatically fought back against it, even though she really, really longed to run her fingers through that spun gold. "What did your last slave die of?"

"Exhaustion," Jaime smiled, rolling over so he could look up at her with those lovely drunk eyes of his. "But you aren't my slave. You are my... Brienne. My wench. So can you please stroke my hair? Please?"

Unable to resist such a pretty plea, Brienne uncurled her fist from its tension-filled ball and lifted it to Jaime's head, twisting his ringlets around her long fingers as he began to sigh. "Do you like that?" Brienne asked nervously, marvelling at how soft his hair was. "Or am I pulling too hard?"

"Perfect," whispered Jaime, his voice like a song as he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation. "Absolutely perfect."

They stayed like that for a few minutes; Jaime with his eyes closed, Brienne admiring this adorable, drunken demi-god who was now sprawled out half-asleep across her lap and her sofa. If Brienne was the type of girl to waste her life on the impossible, at that moment she might have started ruefully regretting that Jaime could never be hers in the way she wanted; as her boyfriend, her partner, her lover. But Brienne was not like that. She knew that she should be immensely grateful for the small pieces of himself that Jaime gave her - she was ugly and he was beautiful, after all - so she would never ask for anything more. That knowledge allowed Brienne to just kept stroking his hair in silence, unharmed by the impossible.

They continued together in that warm tranquillity for a nameless length of time until suddenly, Jaime snapped his eyes open, making Brienne jump. "What is the matter?"

"I couldn't see you."

Brienne furrowed her brow. "Why is that a problem?"

"I _like_ seeing you."

"Why?

"Your eyes are like sapphires," Jaime mumbled as Brienne’s fingers reached his face. "Sapphires and stars."

"You are talking rubbish," she chided affectionately.

"No I'm not. Sapphires and stars."

 _If only he really meant it,_ Brienne thought, _if only I could deserve it._

At least it was the last thing Jaime said before he fell asleep, so Brienne could carry it with her into her own dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. As ever, I would love to hear what you think in the form of a comment or kudos (especially as this one is a do-over)!


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wakes up on the morning after, and has to deal with a hungover Jaime...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back! This is the final chapter that was in my original prompt, but I am going to write an epilogue, so I hope you enjoy!

Brienne opened her eyes, already sighing.

She was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, tracing patterns of mould and flaking paint with a tired glare. Last night, she had had barely any sleep. It had started when Jaime had called her late, drunk and babbling, then turned up on her doorstep armed with even more ridiculousness; laughing at the freckles on her thighs, talking nonsense, and getting her to stroke his hair. It had not yet ended. When Jaime had eventually fallen asleep, Brienne had managed to extract herself from under his head and, after checking he was comfortable, return to her room. Once there she had laid down on her bed and committed herself to a fitful and restless sleep, her mind filled with nothing but thoughts of Jaime and everything he had said. It had been _dangerous_.

 _He was drunk,_ Brienne told herself over and over into the small hours. _He was drunk and talking about our friendship. Nothing else._

Breathing in an attempt to force the strange pressure that was sitting on her heart off her chest, Brienne got out of bed and looked around for some clothes. It was one thing letting Jaime see her freckly thighs when he was blind drunk, quite another in the cold light of day. Drunk, he would laugh. Sober, she would have to watch him attempt to hide his disgust. Once she had found some jeans, holey underwear and a _Night's Watch_ t-shirt, Brienne edged towards the door and opened it gently, lest she rouse the monster. Looking across the living room towards the bathroom, Brienne could just make out the shadowy figure asleep on the sofa, his form rising and falling with every breath.

_Jaime._

Even in sleep he appeared a vision.

Not wanting to disturb him, Brienne crept across the living room as quietly as she could until she got to the bathroom. Once inside, she claimed her sanctuary, turning the shower on in an attempt to block out all thought of him sleeping beyond the door. It was terrifying. In her imagination, Jaime was poised and ready to strike like a cornered rattlesnake.

As the she ran the warm water through her hair, Brienne could already feel the poison under her skin.

_I don't know... like, when I see you... my heart has a boner. I love you that much._

_Someone who loved you... you would have no idea what to do._

_Your eyes are like sapphires. Sapphires and stars._

Everything Jaime had said to her while drunk and disorderly was too sweet, too lovely, and therefore veering dangerously close to her own heart. In all the time they had been friends, Brienne had become an expert at locking down her deeper feelings for him, so tight that they never showed on her externally. At first, it had all been an effort not to get hurt, but then it had mutated into a determination to sever herself from her soft heart entirely.

 _Gods, Jaime would feel quite sick if he knew I loved him,_ she shivered. _And then he would pity me, and I don't want his pity._

After finishing her shower, Brienne got changed into her clothes, which felt like a suit of armour in comparison to the exposing band t-shirt she had been wearing when Jaime saw her last. Consequently, she was not fearful of marching back across the living room into her bedroom in order to retrieve the spare pair of Jaime's jeans and t-shirt she always kept for emergencies. Once she had them in hand, Brienne returned to the sofa on which Jaime was snoring, Sleeping Beauty incarnate.

"Jaime," she whispered, putting his clothes down on the arm of the sofa. "Jaime. It's time to get up, it is late morning."

Not hearing her, Jaime continued to sleep. Brienne sighed. She knew it was wrong - that she was taking something that did not belong to her - but she could not help but reach out and stroke his cheek with the back of her fingers, letting his stubble scratch her skin.

"Jaime, sweetness. You've got to wake up. It is late."

Perhaps it was her touch, or her soothing tone, but Jaime suddenly opened his eyes; all green, bright, and dazzling. Brienne flinched away instantly.

"Oh," he sighed, stretching and straining as he did so, "wench, it's you."

In his effort to do his best impression of a pampered house cat, Jaime knocked the blanket that was covering him to the floor, revealing the long, lithe, golden body that instantly turned Brienne's mouth dry. In the dim morning light, their closeness almost felt intimate, and Brienne was left to wonder what it would be like if she could wake up every morning with a semi-naked Jaime by her side. As that vision began to overwhelm her, Brienne moved away from him, hoping he could not see her feelings in her eyes.

"Yes, it's me," she said quickly, blushing profusely. "I've brought you your spare change of clothes, and you are more than welcome to go and have a shower. There's a spare toothbrush and towel in there for you... and I was thinking of making eggs... a fry up actually. I hear it helps with hangovers."

Laughing to himself, Jaime sat up, his eyes still tender. "Sounds great. My head feels as if it is going to explode."

Given how soft, naked, and dozy he looked, Brienne suddenly felt strangely protective towards him. "Well, best get showered, and I'll cook you your breakfast," she smiled, resisting the temptation to touch him once more.

At her promise, Jaime gave her one of those dazzling smiles that he had worn so easily while drunk, but now looked as if it were part of a dream that had somehow broken into reality. "Alright, wench. Thank you."

With one tired arm, Jaime leant out to take her hand, but Brienne backed away, heading in the direction of the kitchen. When his face fell, her chest felt tight with regret.

 _If only I was beautiful,_ she thought. _If only I was worthy._

Once she got to the kitchen, Brienne tried to distract herself from the sounds of Jaime moving around the living room. She put on the kettle to make herself a coffee and poured him a glass of water. She attempted to focus on the satisfying _hiss_ of the sausages hitting the pan, the smell of bacon wafting throughout the kitchen, and the rhythmic surety of stirring the beans. She tried not to think of the sculpted perfection of his chest. Even as she strained herself focussing on these mundane tasks, Brienne's mind was brought back to the reality of his presence by the noise of water hitting tiles in the bathroom.

Jaime was in the shower. Naked.

 _I've got to stop this,_ she told herself. _I don't care how much it hurts us both, but I can't let him be so close. He'll start dating again and then I will have my heart cut out when I am forced to watch him fall for some beautiful girl who loves him only half as well as I could._

_Gods, I've got to put an end to this._

Brienne was in the process of serving up breakfast when Jaime finally entered the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked tired, but still beautiful, even though he was wearing a t-shirt in a blue that clashed with the colour of his jeans.

"Thanks for this," he muttered when Brienne put his breakfast down on the tiny kitchen table and indicated he should sit down, which he obliged her immediately. "I was expecting you to just kick me out."

Brienne let out a laugh tinged with bitterness as she sat down next to him with her own food. "What do you take me for? I'm your best friend. It is my duty to look after you when you are drunk."

"And I _was_ drunk, wasn't I?" Jaime replied, a regretful whistle escaping through his teeth. "My head hurts so much... I can barely remember anything about last night."

A great sense of relief washed over Brienne, that she had to disguise by starting to pick at her brunch. "That's only to the good," she assured him. "We are all our worst selves when we are drunk."

Jaime shovelled a scoop of beans into his mouth and then still tried to speak, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Oh gods, was I awful? What was I talking about? Was it complete rubbish? Because I don't really remember what the hell I was doing. I was having drinks with the boys and they were telling me not to phone you because I wanted to tell you..."

As he followed his train of memory, Jaime's expression had gone from one of pleasure to one of mounting horror, the colour slowly draining from his cheeks.

"What is the matter?" asked Brienne, cutting up her sausage. "Are you okay?"

It took a few moments of Jaime swallowing loudly before he dropped his fork and turned to look at her, so directly it almost pierced her soul. A weird desperation haunted his features. "Oh shit, I phoned you, didn't I?"

"Yes," smiled Brienne, remembering the sweet heart-breaking rubbish he had told her on the phone. "And then you turned up here... laughing and saying very silly things."

Although Brienne had been trying to ameliorate him by downplaying the whole incident, Jaime continued to look as white as a sheet. "Wh-wh-what did I say?" he stammered, looking at her with eyes like lasers. "Brienne, you've got to tell me. _What did I say?"_

There was something a little terrifying in Jaime's voice that compelled her to speak. Not quite able to meet his eye, Brienne began to explain it as vaguely as possible. She did not want to embarrass him or let him believe she had misread the signs. "Oh, you were just telling me how much I mean to you."

At that statement, Jaime went even paler. "What? I told you I love you?"

"Yes, it was very sweet," Brienne admitted, a blush coming to her cheeks. "How much you love me. How much you value our friendship. That sort of thing."

Jaime's eyes widened. "Our _friendship?_ I told you what a good friend I think you are?"

"Yes," replied Brienne confusedly, sensing that Jaime was surprised by this suggestion. His reaction disturbed her, as the thought that he did not see her that way hurt Brienne more than she could say. "Don't you think we are friends?"

Abandoning all pretence of eating his food, Jaime reached over and took her hand. Brienne tried to hide the fact that his touch lit her up like a candle, but she was sure she had failed. "Of _course_ I think we are friends; you are my best friend but... are you _sure_ that is what I was saying?"

Brienne nodded firmly. Although in silly girlish moments she had imagined his sweetness as something else... it was impossible. "I am sure," she smiled, squeezing his fingers to soothe him. "You were being over-the-top, as usual - saying that my eyes looked like sapphires and stars, giggling about the fact I have freckles on my thighs, telling me you were going to give me the sky - but I appreciated it all, anyway."

For some reason, at her recounting of the previous night, Jaime blushed a brilliant red. It looked strange on someone who was usually so self-confident. "I... I... saw the freckles on your legs, wench?"

Then it was her turn to blush.

"You got down on your knees and were singing a Flo Rida song at me," Brienne admitted, letting go of Jaime's hand lest he think she believed that it was a serenade. "I was wearing my band t-shirt... so you were kinda eye level with my thighs."

If Brienne had hoped that would reassure him, Jaime just looked even more baffled. "And I didn't have anything to say about that?"

"No, you were just giggling at the fact I had freckles," she reminded him, while storing that sweet memory away for later perusal. "It was quite adorable."

At any slight compliment from her, Jaime would normally turn teasing and wouldn't let it go for hours. This time, however, he just looked stunned. "So, last night, I told you that I love you, that you have eyes like sapphires and stars, that I had a... _reaction_ to your freckles, and that I would give you the sky, and you thought I was telling you that I value your friendship?"

Jaime was looking her so intently that Brienne was forced to drop her gaze back down to her beans and try to change the subject. "Of, course. What else could you have been talking about?"

As she was not brave enough to look up and see the horror that dawned in his eyes when he realised that the prospect of them as a _romantic_ pair stood just on the horizon, Brienne swirled her beans around with her fork. She only stopped when Jaime reached over and stole her cutlery, forcing her to raise her eyes to his face.

"Think about it, wench," he commanded, leaving her no choice but to go back over the previous night in her mind once more. "What could I have possibly meant other than friendship? Did I say anything else?"

Brienne took a moment to sift through her memories, trying to make sense of the previous night while withering under Jaime's heated stare. "You said what I’ve already _told_ you. You said you love me, that you would give me the sky, that we would need to talk about things... oh, come to think of it, you did say something else. Something quite funny!"

"What?" asked Jaime, looking confused at the abrupt change of tone.

Giggling to cover her nerves, Brienne decided to tell him the truth. "You told me that when you look at me, your heart gets a boner."

If he looked pale before, Jaime was now a ghost.

"My heart gets a boner?"

"Yes," smiled Brienne, slowly feeling as if she was regaining control of this conversation now that she had unsteadied him with that hazy memory. "That you love me so much that your heart gets a boner when you look at me."

Chuckling to herself, Brienne nearly missed what Jaime said next.

"What if I told you that my heart was not the only bit of me that gets a boner when I look at you?"

Her laughter died at once. "Then I would _know_ you must be joking."

"Why would you think that?" asked Jaime, his stare weirdly intense. "From the sound of it, I spent all of my drunken episode last night trying to tell you what I've been attempting to show you for ages; that I love you. Not in a _best friends_ way, or an _I-love-you-like-a-sister_ way, but in a full blown passionate, romantic, boner-inducing _I love you_ kind of way."

Brienne blinked at him confusedly, unable to comprehend what he was saying. "Are you still drunk?"

"No," said Jaime ardently, pressing his hand to his chest, "and you can tell by the fact that I am trying to be eloquent about it this time when I declare my love for you, so you don't get muddled and think I am just talking about friendship."

Thinking this must be some kind of elaborate joke, or a dream, or a hallucination, Brienne squinted at Jaime. "Am _I_ drunk?"

"No, you are not drunk," laughed Jaime, pushing his food away from him and swivelling in his chair so he could look at her head on. "I _did_ just confess I love you in your kitchen mid-hangover... after you called me sweetness this morning... or was I just imagining that?"

Having thought he was asleep, Brienne had permitted herself that small intimacy, unaware that he would later torment her with it. That she had revealed herself so easily made Brienne so horribly embarrassed that she forgot about her food and got to her feet.

"Don't tease me," she ordered him, crossing the room to be as far away as possible.

Jaime countered her by standing up too. "I'm not teasing you. I love you."

"You just thought you loved me last night because you were drunk," Brienne insisted, stepping back while holding a warning hand up towards him. "In this light... you can't feel the same. I know who I am, and I know who _you_ are. It’s the hangover talking, it’s..."

Having wanted to retreat into the safety of their friendship, Brienne was horrified to discover that Jaime was not letting this dangerous, _dangerous_ topic lie, as he stepped forward, cornering her over by the fridge.

"The you who you are today is the same you I was in love with yesterday, and the same you I be in love with tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that," Jaime admitted, lifting his hand to brush her hair from her eyes. To Brienne, it felt exquisitely wonderful and terrifying at the same time. "I love you, wench, and even though I was drunk, that was what I was trying to tell you last night."

Trapped in an echo of his embrace, Brienne felt she had no choice but to bite back. "But... but... but... you can't!" she stammered, having nothing to fight him with other than her words. "It doesn't make any sense!"

"Why not?" Jaime barked, boxing her in with his arms.

The truth was surprisingly simple.

"I am Brienne and you are Jaime. _We_ don't make any sense."

His eyes dimmed in something that looked like disappointment.

 _It can't be,_ Brienne told herself. _He can't be disappointed._

"I fit with you better than anyone else," Jaime said firmly, even as he wore a slightly wounded expression. "You and me are the only thing that _does_ make sense!"

"As _friends._ Everyone would laugh at you if they saw you were going out with Ugly Brienne Tarth."

Jaime rolled his eyes, just as he always did when Brienne mentioned the facts about her physical appearance. "That is not true. No one would laugh and you are _not_ ugly."

"I own a mirror. I know what I see, I know..."

"So what?” he interjected, almost angrily. “What about what I see when I look at you?" 

While she was terrified, Brienne could not help but ask. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"To me, you are so many things," Jaime confessed, his voice soft, gentle, and passionate at the same time. "You are my knight in shining armour who saved me from burglars. You are my tax return adviser who understands those goddamn forms so much better than me. You are the person I always turn to when I need advice on a good restaurant. You always help me when I need DIY done, because I am hopeless, but you never complain. You never moan about me, even though I know I can be so annoying. You are the person I love to make laugh. You are the person I want to tell when something funny has happened to me and the person I want to be with when I am hurting. And I want to be that for you too, the person you come to when you need to feel safe."

"Jaime..." began Brienne, shocked at how tender he was being, but he did not let her finish.

"You are my best friend, the best person in the world," Jaime proclaimed, the words seemingly spilling out of him as he grabbed her shoulders, "but that is not all you are to me. I love you, Brienne, but when I say that I don't just mean as a friend. I love you as a woman. I love you as the woman I touch myself thinking about. I love you as someone I want to take on dates - _nice_ dates too - to fancy restaurants and cinemas and weekends away. I love you as someone I want to marry one day and have babies with, and I want all our children to look like you. Blue eyes, freckles, the works, because I would hate to see you blotted out in my favour. I have loved you so long that it hurts me that you don't want to believe me, because my love for you is the best part of me, the only piece of me that is worth anything..."

If Brienne had found it difficult to tolerate him proclaiming his love, hearing Jaime talk himself down was even worse. "Don't say that," she said admonishingly, reaching out to hold him, "that's not true. You are wonderful, Jaime, you light up any room you are in. I can't imagine my life without you. You are perfect in all the ways you are... just _perfect,_ so don't go believing anything otherwise."

"Not as perfect as you," Jaime insisted, his eyes shining. "Brienne. My wench. My love."

And before she could stop him, Jaime had pulled her in for a kiss and her heart nearly stopped with the shock of it.

Brienne had imagined kissing Jaime many times, but there was always something strange, distorted and limited about it; a pity kiss in the dark, an accidental crash of the lips when they hugged each other awkwardly, a case of mistaken identity. Romantic fantasies had their confines. Brienne had an active imagination, but never in her wildest dreams would she have thought that it was possible for Jaime to be kissing her as he was now, in a way that made her feel deliciously weak. He had pushed her back against the fridge, boxing her in with his body, then licked at the seam of her mouth until she had opened up for him, letting him suck her tongue. Powerless to resist, Brienne had given him what he wanted, holding him close lest he suddenly realised this was madness.

When Jaime finally broke the kiss, he stayed close, gazing at her with the very stars in his eyes that he had said belonged to her. "I love you, wench."

"I... I... can't believe it," Brienne admitted, bewildered. "I've loved you so long, I didn't think it was possible for you to reciprocate. Not when I am me."

For a brief moment, Jaime looked so sad that she thought he might cry. He managed to brush it off, however, by drawing close enough for a kiss then whispering his devotion. "I vow to fiercely love you all my life, and never let you forget it," he proclaimed, his eyes glittering. "I promise to love you loyally and truthfully so you know that this is forever."

It was all so exquisitely too much that Brienne could do nothing but smile against his lips. "You are so cheesy... even when you are sober."

"But you love it though," Jaime purred, rubbing her nose with his.

Unable to stop herself, Brienne lifted her hands and cupped Jaime's face - his beloved face - and beheld him as if he were the most precious thing she had ever laid her hands on. "I love you, Jaime Lannister. And my heart gets a boner when I look at you too."

He looked so happy that Brienne thought she would burst with pride at making him feel that way. "You know, wench..."

"What?"

"That really is a terrible metaphor."

And before she could tell him that it was all his drunken self's fault, Jaime kissed her once more, and she quite forgot about anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As ever, I would love to hear what you think in a comment or kudos!


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year has passed, and Jaime is drunk once again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for coming back for this epilogue! This wasn't in the original prompt fic, so I hope you enjoy :)

Despite the fact that she and Jaime had been together a whole year, Brienne's boyfriend had not yet worked out how to enter their joint flat _quietly_ after spending all night drinking with his buddies, even though it disrupted her sleep and made her supremely irritated with him the next day. This time, he had gone out with Tyrion and Bronn for the latter's birthday. As it was a boys' night, Brienne had stayed at home watching movies and eating popcorn, occasionally getting messages from Jaime throughout the evening. With each one, his spelling got worse, meaning she could easily read her boyfriend's level of intoxication from his ever more frequent use of emojis.

 _8:32. Jaime:_ I won't be out too long.

 _8:33. Brienne:_ Why? I thought Bronn had a pub crawl planned.

 _8:36. Jaime:_ I want to come home to you 💗

 _8:39. Brienne:_ You can't miss me already!

 _8:42. Jaime:_ I do. I already have our night thought out.

 _8:45. Brienne:_ I was just gonna watch a film. What were you thinking?

 _8.47. Jaime:_ 😘 💋 👅 🍆 ➡ 👌 🥵

 _8.49. Brienne:_ 😳

_9:12. Jaime:_ Bronn's got a vokda luuge.

 _9:16. Brienne:_ If you say so.

 _9:17. Jaime:_ I doooooooo

_11:22. Jaime:_ Luv uuuuuuuuu xxx

 _11:25. Brienne:_ Are you drunk?

 _11:39: Jaime:_ Yees. Want u.

 _11:41. Brienne:_ 😘 I want you too, but my film is finished, and you are out, so I am probably going to go to bed. Night night my love, have fun xxx

 _11:45. Jaime:_ Nooooo. Wanna cme home n fcuk u.

 _11:46. Brienne:_ Not tonight my darling 😂 I'm sleepy! Night night xxx

 _12:01. Jaime:_ xxxxxxxxxxxx

Brienne ended up going to bed just after midnight, all wrapped up in her fluffy pyjamas. In a week's time, she and Jaime were going away for a few days to a cottage in the countryside, so she had to put a lot of effort in the coming days at work to keep on top of things. Consequently, Brienne needed her beauty sleep, so she put in her earphones and listened to her meditation app in order to relax. The voiceover lasted about half an hour and took her on a pleasant walk along a beach, lulling her into a more tranquil state. After she had finished her "Winding Down" programme, Brienne turned off her phone, plugged it into her charger, and then rolled over and went to sleep.

However, her pleasant slumber only lasted a short while before she was rudely awoken by the sound of voices outside.

"Brienne! Brienne!"

"For fuck's sake, Tyrion, keep him quiet! It is two in the bloody morning!"

"Me?!?! Why is it my duty to keep him quiet! You were the one who dared him to drink that line of tequila shots, Bronn."

"Everyone just calm down..."

"Shut up Addam!" said Tyrion and Bronn as one.

"BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!!!"

Sighing, Brienne opened her eyes.

 _So much for a good night's sleep,_ she thought.

"Jaime, you've got to shut up or you'll wake the whole neighbourhood up."

"Wanna talk to Brienne. BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!!!"

"Oh for fuck's sake," grumbled Bronn. "Shall we actually call her? If only to stop Romeo here shouting down the neighbourhood?"

"BRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!!!"

"Shhh, Jaime," said Addam gently. "You need to be quiet or you will wake everybody up."

"Need to talk to Brienne! BRI--"

"Okay, we get the picture," snapped Tyrion, as the sound of someone being shoved resonated through the open bedroom window, "you need to talk to Brienne. Should we just knock on the front door, boys?"

Realising that this was going to go on for days unless she did something about it now, Brienne got out of bed and walked over to the other side of the room. When she and Jaime had bought this flat together, they had been sold on it because of the beautiful balcony overlooking the front garden that was directly attached to the master bedroom. Usually, they used it for sitting outside on a nice evening and drinking wine. Now, however, Brienne had another need for it. Pushing open the door that led to the balcony, Brienne went to survey her kingdom. Tyrion was standing in the centre of the front garden, staring at the front door, while Addam and Bronn were behind him, propping up Jaime between them. Despite the latter clearly being drop down drunk, he was the first to spot Brienne as she appeared on the balcony and leant on the railing, looking down at them all.

"WENCH!" he shouted, much louder than necessary, as his green eyes shone warmly. "I've found you!"

Brienne could not help but smile. Her boyfriend was so drunk that he had no inhibitions and was just staring up at her in a kind of loved-up bliss. "Well done," she grinned down at him. "It must have been really difficult to locate me... at our flat."

Seemingly unperturbed by Brienne's comment, Jaime just continued on whatever mental path he was on. "I LOOOOOOOOVVVEEEE YOU BRIENNE!!!" A flock of irritated birds ricocheted into the sky at Jaime's shouting, and Bronn and Tyrion just rolled their eyes. Jaime didn't seem to notice, however; he just looked immensely pleased with himself.

"I love you too," Brienne said, blushing because she was saying it in front of Jaime's rowdiest friends and his brother. "But there is no need to shout--"

"BRIENNNNEEEEEE, I LUUUUUUURRRRVVVVEEEE YOU SOOOOO MUUUUUUCCCCHHH!!!"

As Addam tried to put his hand over Jaime's mouth, Brienne just giggled. "You've said that already, you know. That you love me."

"IT IS BECAUSE I DOOOOOOO, WENCH! SOOOOO MUUUUUUCCCHH!"

Just at that moment, Olenna - who lived in the flat beneath Jaime and Brienne - opened her window. Although Brienne could not see her, she could hear her, and it was clear their octogenarian neighbour was not happy. "For god's sake, will someone please shut him up! Some of us are trying to sleep here!"

"Sorry Ms Tyrell!" Brienne shouted down, leaning over the balcony. "Someone has had too much to drink tonight, but I will get him inside!"

There was some grumbling from downstairs, but that seemed to assuage Ms Tyrell, as Brienne heard her close her window and go back inside. Instantly knowing what they had to do, Tyrion called up to Brienne. "Do you want to come downstairs and collect him? I don't trust him to find his own keys, and he'll sooner end up in Ms Tyrell's bathroom than in your bed."

"Yes," replied Brienne, knowing she had little choice, "I will do just that--"

However, Jaime clearly had different ideas. Shaking Addam and Bronn off him, he made a run towards the block of flats. Bemused, his friends on the ground did nothing, but just watched as Jaime attempted to climb up the garden trellis to reach Brienne.

"Jaime!" Brienne spluttered. "What the hell do you think you are doing?"

Even though he had all the co-ordination of a tarantula on roller-skates, Jaime smiled up at her, his green eyes shining. "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Brienne is the suuuuuuuuuun!"

As the boys started sniggering on the ground, Brienne leant over the balcony railing to try and get hold of Jaime's shirt. She was terrified that he was going to fall if she did not save him. "Jaime, this is really not the time for a dramatic soliloquy!"

"Yes it issssss," he slurred when he was finally close enough for Brienne to grab a hold of his shirt and heave him towards her. "Cos I LOOOOVVVEEE YOU!!"

With one last pull, Jaime was over the balcony railing and practically on top of her, because the second he got near enough to her, he wrapped himself around her, grinning inanely. "Love you, wench. Love you so much."

"I know," said Brienne, blushing as he rested his head on her shoulder, "but you didn't have to declare it quite so loud."

"I wanna," he replied, not even attempting to argue her point in an intelligent way. "And I've gotta tell you something... something SEEEECRET, but you have to make them go away first."

Laughing, Brienne attempted to pull herself out of Jaime's embrace (and promptly failed) as she tried to thank Tyrion, Bronn, and Addam for bringing Jaime home to her. "Thanks guys!" she called, even though her voice was almost muffled by Jaime's arm. "I think I've got everything under control now."

"Good luck," smirked Tyrion, "he's been going on and on about the fact he has something important to tell you all night. _Secret_ , but important."

Just then, Jaime started kissing Brienne's cheek, so she knew she had to wrap this up quickly. "Thanks for this. I am sure he would not be nearly so bad if he hadn't had tequila shots."

"Blame Bronn," said Addam. "It wasn't Tyrion's fault."

"Hey, I didn't _force_ him to drink them," Bronn declared grumpily. "He's a free man. He chose what he wanted to do."

"I don't care," responded Brienne, as Jaime's kisses journeyed from her face to her neck. "I hold you all collectively responsible for the fact that I am going to get no sleep tonight."

For the first time since they had appeared in her front garden, Tyrion, Bronn, and Addam had the good grace to look guilty. "Sorry Brienne!" called the former, biting his lip. "I hope he gives you a good time at least!"

Brienne gave Tyrion a withering look. "He's more likely to puke!" At that declaration, she turned to look at Jaime, who brightened up the second she gave him an ounce of attention. "Come on then, Romeo. Shall we get you inside?"

"Please," he mumbled, as Brienne hooked one arm around his shoulders and waved at Tyrion, Bronn, and Addam with the other. Once they had all said their goodbyes, Brienne then worked at directing Jaime back into their bedroom. Unfortunately, he was clinging to her with the enthusiasm of a sloth holding onto a tree.

"Jaime, you've got to let me walk."

"Why?" he replied, trying to tilt her face towards his for a kiss. "We could carry out my plans right here on the floor."

Brienne raised a sceptical eyebrow at him. "What plans would those be?"

At her question, Jaime started giggling. "Wench, I told you earlier, but I cannot speak in emoji!"

Given that his laughter made his determination to cling onto her a little less forceful, Brienne was able to shove Jaime over to the bed, where she could neatly arrange him in a sleeping position.

"It is sleeping time, Jaime," she told him firmly, trying to undo his shirt while he flailed around. "That means you've got to have a glass of water, get into bed, and try and sleep."

Clearly wanting to fight being put to bed like a child, Jaime sat up, even as Brienne kept assiduously undoing his shirt buttons. "But I CAN'T wench. I have a secret that I haaaaaavvvveee to tell you."

Knowing that she would find Jaime much more co-operative if she listened to his story, Brienne said, "oooh, do you?" when she finally got his shirt off him and started on his shoes.

"Mmm Hmm, but you have to proooooomise me you won't tell anyone... even yourself."

Laughing, Brienne nodded as she took his shoes and socks off, and then started on his trousers. "I promise I won't tell anyone, Jaime, even myself."

"Good," he smiled, "I trust you to _shhhhhhhhh_!"

"I will definitely _shhhhh_ ," Brienne replied, as she pushed him to lay down so she could wriggle his jeans over his hips. "Now, what is this big secret you have?"

At her question, Jaime grinned at her, halfway between a little boy who was supremely proud of himself and a puppy dog in love. The sight warmed Brienne's heart. "When we go away next weekend, I have something really, reeeaaaaallly special planned."

Brienne was so surprised at that admission that she almost stopped trying to get his trousers off and looked at him concernedly. She knew what Jaime could be over-the-top and effusive sometimes, and that he deeply adored public displays of affection. Therefore, Brienne felt a little worried that he was going to take her to a karaoke bar and serenade her in front of everybody or something.

"Oh, do you? What is that?" Brienne asked, her heart hammering.

"Well," Jaime began, drawing his own legs up and thereby shuffling out of his jeans for her. "I picked the cottage we are going to because it has a private little rose garden that we can spend time in just the two of us. I know you don't like being in love in front of other people."

Brienne found herself blushing at his comment. It warmed her heart when she was reminded that Jaime knew her so well, even if he sometimes forgot, as he had on the balcony about two minutes earlier. Therefore, wanting to be sweet for him, Brienne folded up his clothes and put them on the chest of drawers at the corner of the room, before turning back to Jaime and his heart eyes. "That is very thoughtful of you. Did you think we could sit outside together in the sunshine?"

"Not just that," replied Jaime, his voice hushed. "I thought we could make a day of it. We could go to one of those stately homes you love so much, and you can tell me about all the history I will pretend to care about - because I love you - and then we can go to a fancy restaurant and have an amazing dinner. Then we can go back to the cottage and fuck until we are both satisfied and then... and then... oh, you've got to promise me you won't tell her."

Washed away by this wonderful vision, Brienne wanted to know where the story ended, so she made him that promise. "I won't tell, Jaime. You know I won't."

He smiled at her, happy and dreamy, as he leaned upwards to his bedside cabinet and pulled out a small box from the top drawer. "And then I'll give you this."

Brienne's breath caught in her throat as Jaime came to sit in front of her, smelling of tequila and wearing just his boxers. It would not have been a romantic image, but he was gazing at her so tenderly as he opened the box to reveal an engagement ring with a sapphire in the centre.

"Jaime..."

"I chose the sapphire ring because it reminds me of your eyes... and I'll tell you that when I propose, because I wanna be really romantic in the rose garden, where no one can see other than you and me."

 _How is he always so poetic when drunk?_ Brienne wondered, gazing into his beautiful green eyes. Not able to resist, she leant forward and kissed him, cupping his cheek with her hand. He tasted of spirits, but Brienne hardly cared in that moment. It was a miracle that Jaime loved her as much as he did, and she wanted to savour it.

"That sounds so perfect," she smiled, her heart fluttering as tears came to her eyes. "So lovely... and it will just be you and me."

The hazy drunken joy on Jaime's face suddenly turned a little concerned as he squinted at her. "You would say yes, though, wouldn't you? I don't want to ruin anything..."

"Of course I'll say yes," Brienne promised him, planting a reassuring kiss on his forehead. "I love you so much, Jaime, and this will be a perfect proposal."

At her confirmation, Jaime looked so immensely proud of himself that he was compelled to kiss her again. It was sloppy, messy, and devoid of his usual finesse, but Brienne forgave him because he was just so sweet, lovely, and entirely hers.

"You've got to keep quiet about it, though," Jaime said sincerely, worry in his green eyes. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."

Brienne had to swallow her laughter. "Don't worry. I won't tell me, but she might hear if you keep talking about it so loudly. So... how about I put this away, while you have a drink of water, and then we can go to bed?"

Jaime seemed to like that plan as he nodded enthusiastically, then leant over to her side of the bed and stole her water, drinking most of it in three gulps. Bubbling with excitement, Brienne closed the box to hide her engagement ring from sight, before putting it back in Jaime's bedside drawer. Although he had technically spoiled his whole proposal plan for her, Brienne would keep it a secret and would pretend she did not have a clue about his intentions. After all, she loved him so much that she could not bear to spoil the romantic plans he had for the following weekend, thereby making him feel bad.

Consequently, once everything was put away, Brienne turned to Jaime and said, "don't worry. I'll keep my mouth shut. You haven't spoiled anything."

Jaime smiled at her brightly. "Thanks wench. I knew I could trust you."

"You can, always," replied Brienne, pulling back the covers and climbing into bed. "Now, it really is time to sleep, so will you come here? I want to cuddle you."

Unable to deny her, Jaime put down the glass of water and shimmied under the covers beside her. "Love you wench," said Jaime, wrapping his arms around her.

Brienne kissed the top of his head. "Love you too, Jaime."

Given how much he had drunk that evening, Jaime was snoring within two minutes, his head rested on her shoulder. Brienne, on the other hand, could not sleep at all. In spite of the late hour and the meditation app, the thought that Jaime was going to propose to her in a week's time was almost too exciting. Part of her wanted to go to the balcony and scream the truth, so Tyrion, Bronn, and Addam came running back to listen.

She didn't, however, because she loved Jaime too much and she had promised him that she would keep it a secret.

He wouldn't remember come the morning, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! If you feel so inclined, please leave a comment or kudos. I love each and every one!


End file.
